


wasted hours (before we knew)

by fastforwardty



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: End of the World, Existential Angst, Existentialism, Just in general, M/M, also the title is an arcade fire song, based on a microfiction i wrote for class, bc it be like that sometimes, existential pining, i guess, i think, if u've ever seen synecdoche new york, it's an apocalypse au, so uhhhhh, soft reminiscent boys, there's a lot of, they inspire the same feeling, um, what do i call it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-01
Updated: 2018-06-01
Packaged: 2019-05-17 00:00:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14821403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fastforwardty/pseuds/fastforwardty
Summary: “So this is the way the world ends,” Dan mumbled into Phil’s chest.“Really hot?” Phil smirked. He felt Dan chuckle against him.They needed this. Needed the laughter and the smiles and what was left of the good that had been left behind.“Absolutely scorching,” Dan smiled.“I guess that’s my fault.”“Oh shut up,” Dan lifted his head from Phil’s chest and gave him that same silly I-can’t-be-mad-at-you grin they both missed more than they ever realized.“You didn’t deny it,” Phil beamed.“I’ve never been one to deny the truth,” Dan grinned, resting his hands under his chin and laying back down against Phil’s chest.-or, the one about the world ending that isn't really about the world ending





	wasted hours (before we knew)

It was a strange feeling, knowing that the world was going to end. It was strange being able to literally count down to the exact date, the day when everything you know will cease to exist. It was strange knowing that all you could do was sit there and watch it happen.

There were only days left now, each one gradually being drawn through and crossed out, all leading down to the end. The calendar felt heavy with the weight of its wasted days.

Everything was so hot. And bright. Not even blackout curtains could do much to darken the sky outside.

All anyone had left was not enough time.

The days felt too long and too short. Dan wasn’t sure if he wanted more or less of them. 

What to do with all this time? 

So he sat. And he moped. And he wasted more days until there were hardly any left.

Too many wasted days.

And what was there to do? Everyone had been advised long ago not to go outside. All he could do was sit and wait and watch the world burn.

Phil hated seeing Dan like this. Even before all of this was happening, he hated seeing Dan sit around and mope out of pure helplessness. He just hated seeing Dan  _ feel _ helpless.

Of course, that’s what they were. That’s all that everyone left was.  _ Helpless _ . No one was coming to save them. There was no salvation, no rescue. There were no miracles. Not the kind that they wanted, the kind that they needed.

Dan had spent the past few days sitting on the edge of their bed and staring out the window. Nothing ever changed out there — not really, not anymore. No one rushed to their cars because they were running late for work. No one walked their dogs on early mornings before the sun rose and burned the white sidewalks. People were still living  _ somewhere _ , but not out there. 

Before all this happened, Phil used to stand in the doorway and muse at Dan as he got lost in the streets below, peering at the world moving from their bedroom window. Now, the orange in the sky only grew brighter with each day they grew closer to the end. Phil always scolded Dan for pulling the curtains open to look outside, always something about how bad that much light was for his eyes. Nowadays, Dan replied, “Does it matter anymore?”

Phil moved from his usual spot in the doorway and sat next to Dan on their bed, each stripped down to the thinnest underwear they could find to survive the heat that infiltrated their apartment. The air was thick and heavy all around them. They sat quietly for a while — neither could tell how long. 

Somehow, the earth still turned and the sun still set, allowing them a few hours of peaceful night before returning to the burning light. Their regular light fixtures were useless at this point, so all they had were candles to lessen the darkness. Dan remembered the candles, the ones that sat on the rim of the bathtub for when he had a long day, the ones that sat on the nightstand in the bedroom for anniversary celebrations, the ones that sat on the coffee table in the living room for when they just wanted something a little softer than their normal lights. The different scents all mixed together into an overwhelming wave of memories that washed over them. Toasted marshmallow and apple cinnamon and pine forest and everything else that smelled like home.

They lit a few candles in the living room and ate dinner out of cans.

The only sound was their spoons scraping against the ribbed insides of the metal.

Their throats were dry when they went to sleep, curtains drawn closed and covers thrown to the edge of the bed. There weren’t even crickets to sing them to sleep.

Phil woke up hot and sticky, the sheets clinging to his skin. It was so much hotter than it had ever been before.

Today was the last day. The last day before the sun and the earth were finally close enough to each other that the earth would be reduced to nothing but ash. Deep down, Phil still hoped for a way out; Dan hoped it wouldn’t hurt. Phil rolled over and shook Dan's shoulder lightly. 

Dan arched his back off the bed, yawning as he stretched. He looked at Phil and blinked a few times. Phil stretched himself over and placed a small kiss on the corner of Dan's lips, feeling them curve under his own. They both knew this was the end, but for now, they would pretend. Just for these few early-morning moments, where everything still felt hazy like a dream, they prayed for the world to let them pretend it wasn’t all over soon. For once, the sheets didn’t feel like fire on their backs. They laid still for a moment, letting themselves just soak in each other’s comfort.

Today was something they’d agreed on longer ago than either really wanted to remember. The remembering hurt, but this mattered more than the ache.

Dan stood from the bed and walked to their closet; Phil sat up and followed with his eyes as Dan moved. He sat back down at the foot of the bed with a large cardboard box at his feet. Phil moved down, sitting next to Dan.

Inside were around a dozen different photo albums of various sizes, some thicker — more lived-in — than others. Other photographs were strewn around in the box. This was everything they ever were, all manageably contained in a box full of photographs. It was strange to see their younger selves mixed around with their older selves, as if the two were actually able to coexist for even just one instant in the universe. Dan thought it was even stranger knowing that he’d never see their wrinkly greys mixed in. 

Looking through the box, he felt sort of cheated. Of all the time they’d already had together, they couldn’t have just a little bit more? They couldn’t have the old and grey, too? Phil would’ve said it was selfish to say those kinds of things — that he should think about all the people who will never get a chance to come close to what they had, or the people being cut so much shorter than they were — so Dan just didn’t say them at all. He figured Phil was right anyway; he always was. Besides, he wasn’t going to start that fight. Not today. Not anymore.

Now that they were actually doing it, Phil wasn’t sure looking through their old life was the best idea. All it was doing was making him… angry? He looked at their old pictures, their old smiles and their old friends and their old days, and his throat felt tight. There were so many more days they could’ve had, and now they were gone. Wasted like all the days that will never be crossed off the calendar.

He wasn’t going to admit to Dan that he was right.

But maybe now’s not the time to be leaving things unsaid.

“I get it now,” Phil spoke softly.

“Get what?” Dan asked.

“Being angry.”

Even now, Dan knew. He pulled the photographs in Phil’s hands away, putting them into the box before wrapping his arms tightly around Phil’s shoulders. As soon as their skin made contact, Phil’s shoulders were heaving under Dan's touch, his arms tightly around Dan's waist. He heaved and he sobbed and he thought about all of those days he would never be able to remember again.

Everything was still too hot.

Both mumbled an apology into the other’s ears for making each other feel this way.

“Can we go sit in the living room?” Phil asked quietly.

“We can go wherever you want.”

Dan stood from the bed and carefully tugged Phil behind him into the living room. They sat quietly together on the couch, staring into the matte black of the television screen. Even in this unbearable heat, they didn’t quite feel like taking their hands off each other anymore. It was constant shoulders leaning into each other, knees bumping in quiet reminders, toes tapping over each other’s like the little game they used to play at restaurants, fingers intertwining them together.

They were tired but they couldn’t sleep. Rather, they  _ shouldn’t _ sleep. Because these were the last hours. These were the last moments they would be awake together. If they fell asleep now, they might not wake up again. They’d never get to wake up together again, never get to tell each other about the crazy dreams they had last night, or the bad ones, or the nice ones.

What a waste of all of those dreams.

The time passed by too slowly and too quickly, being wasted just as must as it would’ve been if they were sleeping. They laid together on the couch, skin uncomfortably hot between them but both honestly too scared for it to matter. They watched the sky get darker behind the curtains. Dan stood first, walking into their bedroom before returning with four candles in his hands. The ones from their nightstand. This was another last-day promise, saving their favorite candles for the end.

There was no way to describe the scent other than home.

Dan sat the candles down on the coffee table as Phil went into the kitchen, pulling the matchbox out of a drawer. The box was empty, panic flashing across his face as he dug through the drawer for loose matches. He finally found one, stuck in the edges of the drawer.

The last match, too.

It was starting to feel like the end now.

Neither of them could remember the last time they lit those candles.

Dinner was just the same as it had been for God-only-knows how long — eating in heavy silence. Dan hated the sound of their spoons scraping inside the cans.

There was practically no time at all, now.

Phil walked their empty cans into the kitchen and threw them in the garbage, piled in with the rest of the empty cans from the end of the world. 

“Do you want the candles in the bedroom?” Phil asked quietly.

Dan nodded, “I want to be able to see you face.”

“Okay.”

Dan picked up two of the candles, holding them carefully as he walked towards their room. Phil grabbed the last two on the table and followed, watching his feet and the flames.

The bedroom felt empty — not of life, but of everything else. Even emptier than when it was when they moved in all those years ago. Phil remembered the day and smiled. It felt like forever ago, and it was. Way before everything now was ever even a blip on the radar. 

They sat the four candles down on the nightstand. Dan laid down slowly on the bed, as if so not to disturb the unmoved silence that had occupied the room. He perched himself up on his elbows and looked up at Phil with his tired eyes. Phil laid down next to him, holding his arms open. Dan filled in the gap they made over Phil’s chest, listening to Phil’s heart pressed against his ear. Their chests rose and fell as they reveled in this calmness, this stillness of the world. The eye of the storm.

“So this is the way the world ends,” Dan mumbled into Phil’s chest.

“Really hot?” Phil smirked. He felt Dan chuckle against him.

They needed this. Needed the laughter and the smiles and what was left of the good that had been left behind.

“Absolutely scorching,” Dan smiled.

“I guess that’s my fault.”

“Oh shut up,” Dan lifted his head from Phil’s chest and gave him that same silly I-can’t-be-mad-at-you grin they both missed more than they ever realized.

“You didn’t deny it,” Phil beamed.

“I’ve never been one to deny the truth,” Dan grinned, resting his hands under his chin and laying back down against Phil’s chest.

They laughed with each other a bit, falling back into their old flirtatious habits that had been abandoned too long ago. Silence consumed them quickly, though, the only sound returning to their synchronized breaths. It was easier to think about the breathing than anything else.

“Phil,” Dan began, his soft voice reverberating in Phil’s ribcage, “do you think we wasted too much time?”

Phil looked down at Dan, “What do you mean?”

“Like, that big fight all those years ago and all the times we just didn’t say anything or do anything, do you think we wasted that time?” his voice sounded like it hurt.

And it did. The answers weighed heavy in Phil’s throat. His tongue felt stuck to the roof of his mouth; his throat felt like it was filled with sand.

He took a deep breath, raising Dan's head as he rested on it, before he spoke. “I don’t think anything’s wasted as long as it’s with you. Even the fights, even the days we just sat in silence. Every single second was worth it just to see you.”

“But we could’ve had  _ so much more _ ,” Dan turned his head to look up at Phil. “Could’ve said so much more, been so much more.”

“I think we were just enough.”

“But don’t you ever wonder what else we could’ve done if we just had more time?

“Of course I do,” Phil started. “I wonder what we’d’ve looked like with grey hair, what kind of wedding rings we would’ve had, what our kids might’ve looked like.”

“I can’t believe we wasted so much time just  _ waiting _ for each other.”

“I don’t think we should spend this time worrying about all the time we don’t have anymore.”

The room fell silent once again. Dan raised his head from Phil’s chest and shifted into his usual side of the bed, laying on his shoulder. Phil looked at him, confused.

“I wanna see your face,” Dan admitted. Phil shifted down on the bed so that their faces met. He shifted closer toward Dan, placing a hand softly against his cheek.

“Better?” Phil grinned. Dan nodded under his touch, moving a hand over Phil’s waist.

“Is there anything you ever left unsaid?” Dan asked quietly.

“In general, or to you specifically?”

“In general, I guess,” Dan paused, “but I don’t think those really matter anymore.”

“Everyone’s got stuff they never said, Dan.”

“I know they do, but it’s sad.”

“Yeah, it’s sad.”

They were quiet for a moment.

“Is there… is there anything you never said to me?” Dan asked hesitantly.

Phil thought for a few moments, eyes darting all over Dan's red face like they were looking for things to say.

“I always thought you looked really good in the color pink,” Phil blushed. Dan rolled his eyes and smiled. 

“Oh that doesn’t count!”

“Yes it does!” Phil argued. “And I always thought it was funny how frustrated you got when we’d play video games.”

“C’mon, that one’s obvious,” Dan laughed.

Phil closed his eyes, turning onto his back. “And I loved-  _ love _ saying stupid stuff that make your dimples show when you laugh, and I love always buying you flowers just because I wanted to, and I love how enthusiastic you get about things you really care about, and I love listening to you learn new songs on piano even though you told me not to, and I love being able to have spent the past six years of my life waking up next to you- Dan, really?” he looked over and laughed, noticing the quiet sniffles coming from Dan's side of the bed. 

“What did you expect me to say?” Phil asked, smiling sadly. “Don’t make me cry, too.”

“I love you so much, you know that?” Dan's voice was filled with bubbles and cracks as he spoke. “And how you stick out your tongue when you laugh and always crack yourself up over your own jokes and buy me flowers whenever you want and let me scream at you when I’m upset about things and that you let me love you since I was eighteen years old.”

Phil rolled back onto his shoulder, moving his hand back to Dan's tear-streaked face. He rubbed his thumb over the apple of Dan's cheek, dragging the tear tracks across Dan's skin with it.

“Would you change any of it?” Dan said quietly.

Phil grinned, his own tears catching in the curve of his lip. “Not a single second.”

“Not even the bad stuff?”

“Not even the bad stuff.”

The two looked at each other in silence for a few minutes, sniffling and giggling at themselves; they couldn’t help but feel silly for just staring at each other while they cried. They needed this, needed this laughter, needed to take themselves a little less seriously, especially now. 

“Phil?” Dan whispered.

“Dan?”

“I’m scared.”

“That’s okay, I’m here,” Phil grinned, pulling Dan closer so that their chests were together, their heartbeats pounding against the other’s. The tips of their noses brushed together.

“‘m tired,” Dan mumbled.

“Do you wanna go to sleep?”

Dan nodded, his nose brushing up and down on Phil’s.

“Alright, we can do that,” Phil said softly.

“Phil?”

“Yes, Dan?”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Phil whispered, bringing his lips to Dan's and placing a soft kiss on them, still salty with tears. 

Even before, they never really said goodnight. Not that they were planning their last words, but they both always preferred I-love-yous to be the last words in their ears before they slept. An I-love-you and a goodnight kiss, that’s how they ended their days, every day since the very beginning. How fitting it would seem to end their last.

Neither of them moved from where they laid, keeping their noses pressed together, legs tangled together, warm hands on warmer skin, their soft breathing the only sound.

**Author's Note:**

> i'd like to made a note that i gave this to a guest teacher in class to edit and revise and the only comment she made on it was, "i cried, thanks."


End file.
